I woke up today with that Canadian giggle-water still doing the Charleston in my head, and there was a copy of Weird Tales: The Unique Magazine next to my pillow, folded open to a story written by Harry Houdini himself. It was nice of Heinie Sand to slip me the magazine, but all it did was give me strange dreams about spirit mediums.
I also dreamed these big, shadowy guys were in my room performing some secret ceremony on me, which I guess explains the letters H.G.F. that I saw inked on my ankle when I was washing up. Those crumbs! I threw on my oversized Phillie top which wasn't getting washed until after today's last game here in Boston and was really beginning to stink, nabbed some biscuits from downstairs and high-tailed it out to Braves Field.
Harper and Wrightstone and Holke and Woehr were all snickering at me when I came in the locker room but I didn't say a word because I was still pretty honored to be included with these lunatics and needed to get through the summer with them. But then Art Fletcher called me over and said the Braves batboy was sick, and I had to work for both teams in the same game! Were they kidding me?
Nope, they weren't. The breeze that comes off the Charles River a lot took the day off, and It was over ninety degrees even in the shade. Dave Bancroft, the player-manager of the Braves, seemed like a good egg but he was out of his lineup with a bad shoulder so wasn't in the best mood and stood right next to me when I was setting up all the Boston bats, like it was going to be my fault if they lost the game or something.
From what I could see of the game, it was another close battle. Incredible Holke doubled in a run for us in the 1st, and Bill Hubbell tripled in Sand in the 2nd, but four Brave singles in their 2nd tied it up in no time. I was running back and forth between the dugouts like a nut, at the same time fetching balls to the umpire at home plate, and my wool top was so drenched with sweat it felt like it was pushing me into the ground.
Rube Marquard was throwing for Boston, a guy who used to be pretty tough for the Giants, and he still pitched good games once in a while but we had his number today. Mokan doubled, Ford tripled and Hubbell got another hit to put us ahead 4-2 in the 4th, and then Hubbell began getting out of pickles like he usually does. I tried to spend less and less time in the Braves dugout because it was getting deadlier in there and not one player or coach had a friendly look for me. Finally, after Mokan whacked a homer in the 8th and Harper pinch-hit a single after he had me rub my hands on his bat handle, we had three more runs and the easy win—our 30th one!
Leaving a town after a victory has to be the only way to travel in baseball, as I'm sure I'll experience after the opposite happens, but tonight everyone was in a great mood at the hotel. The Havana Grit Faction was out carousing somewhere, but Sand and Ford and Frank Parkinson invited me into a room to throw some dice, and they told me some great stories about playing ball, and how'd they'd do it for free if they could. I said the game looked kind of easy from up in the stands and Heinie said oh no it ain't, and promised to get me in the batting cage one of these days to prove it.
That's sure something else to look forward to, along with my first train trip with a big league team tomorrow morning—straight down to big old New York. Good night, reader-people!
PHL 110 200 030 - 7 13 1
BOS 020 000 000 - 2 13 0
Other National League games today:
ROBINS 9-14-5, at GIANTS 6-8-0
More humiliation for Giants fans, as they get swept three straight in their own park by the hated Robins. Brooklyn makes five errors this time and it doesn't even matter because Mule Watson pitches like a dead one and the top four spots in the Robin lineup are on base 14 out of 20 times. It's going to put McGraw and his disappointing boys in a sour spot when we walk in there for the Fourth of July double-header, and we've played them pretty tough all year. I can't wait!
REDS 7-10-1, at CUBS 1-9-0
Dazzy Vance may be having a great season, but this Eppa Rixey guy is even stingier. He goes to 11-4 by wiping out the dying Cubs and drops his earned run average to a little over 2.00. Walker, Ike Caveney and Rixey himself all hit homers off Kauffman.
PIRATES 8-12-2,at CARDINALS 3-7-1
I've decided that by following the Bucs every day I learn more about science and mathematics than I ever learned in Mrs. Crackerbee's class. For instance, if Team B compiles one to five runs in the first three innings, the Pirates will erase that before six innings. If there is a dangerous hitter in Team B's lineup, this player will injure himself immediately before or during a series with the Pirates (catcher Verne Clemons today, for two weeks, after Hi Bell was forced to pitch for the Cards because Alan Sothoron was injured). And the science experiment that is proved without fail is that if Team B makes a mistake in the field, the Pirates will immediately beat Team B's brains out. Jack Smith, playing in center to get another lefty into the lineup against Lee Meadows, drops a ball with two outs and no one on base in the 1st for a 3-three base error. Cuyler singles, Smith walks, Traynor singles, Wright doubles and the game and class are over. Hornsby goes 6-for-16 in the 4-game Pittsburgh sweep, but as weird a tale as it seems, fails to get one big hit.
|NATIONAL LEAGUE through Wednesday, July 2|
|New York Giants||40||33||.548||10.5|
|St. Louis Cardinals||37||36||.507||13.5|